


Play to Win

by queentrashboat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Blow Jobs, Crying, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Fisting, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, HYDRA Trash Party, Humiliation, M/M, Object Insertion, Objectification, Orgasm Control, Spanking, Unconscious Sex, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7383235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queentrashboat/pseuds/queentrashboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The only thing more beautiful than watching not-quite-Bucky-Barnes-anymore slaughter targets with machine precision was watching all that programming breakdown as they stretched its asshole beyond recognition. Already the rim was turning light shade of purple, all wet and nasty and wrinkled like a real pussy. And at the end of the day, when they threw the Soldier’s brain back in the blender, all that pain and animalistic desperation would stick. Not the intimate details, of course. Just the feelings. The sense of place and purpose.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It started out as a reminder of just how low the Soldier was on the totem pole. Now they just do it for fun.</p><p>For an HTP prompt asking for humiliation and object insertion. Aka, that fic where Bucky gets fucked with a Captain America action figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play to Win

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt is[here](http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1634.html?thread=4090210#cmt4090210%0A) [X]:  
> Based purely on the concept that serum-enhanced Bucky has a powerfully vice-like rectum.   
> But of course the Hydra goons still want to fuck him. They just don't want their dicks strangled in the process. So, to make it more comfortable for them, they have to stuff him full of massive objects to get him really stretched and loose pre-fuck. Or maybe they just stuff him full of a fleshlight and fuck that if they're feeling particularly lazy about it. Just want Bucky being stuffed and stretched to the max, preferably with large and strange and humiliating object insertions.

It was a time honored tradition among the few elite that got to work with the Winter Soldier. After a successful mission, before the wipe, before cryo. They cleared out one of the sub-level rooms, moved some furniture around, pulled out the beer, and tried to pretend like they weren't about to have the most debauched office party in history.

It started out as a way to break whoever the Soldier was before he became useful. Sure, Rumlow wasn't stupid. He knew it was Bucky Barnes, kept on ice as Hydra's top pet murder machine. But STRIKE members weren't exactly picked for their brains, and even those who'd stared Barnes right in the face couldn't tell you it was the same guy in their elementary school textbooks. 

The conditioning could only do so much, so then it became a ritual to make the wipes easier; to have something that Barnes desperately _wanted_  to forget. But the man deliberately avoiding eye contact with Rumlow now wasn't Barnes, it was the Soldier. The Soldier wasn’t a person anymore. The wipes and the trigger words and the years of conditioning made sure of that. Now the whole ordeal had become a reward, a tradition for those who had to put up with the Soldier's sorry ass. So everyone would remember just where they were in the pecking order. To remind the Soldier it was at the very bottom, even if it didn’t remember why.

Rumlow took one last look over of the cuffs. The thing keeping the Soldier down was essentially a big metal frame, welded into a raised platform roughly waist high. The Soldier’s limbs were bolted down onto the beams with long metal cuffs that held his forearm and bicep bent at a ninety degree angle, and did the same for the legs. The whole thing was absurd, and it occurred to Rumlow that someone had to _make_ it. Someone had to sit down with the Soldier's measurements and piece together this gorgeous monstrosity strong enough to hold the Soldier in the perfect position to fuck. Hail fucking Hydra. He circled the Soldier, drinking in the sight of all that flesh he'd be getting his hands on soon enough. He ran a finger from the Soldier's crack and up his spine with a feather light touch. The Soldier squeezed its eyes shut, grinding its teeth and still refusing to look up.

Rumlow twisted his hands in the Soldier’s hair and yanked its head up.

“You want it, bitch? Tell me how bad you want it,” he growled, smashing his zippered crotch into the Soldier’s face. He held there for a second, and only pulled back when it start to shake, desperate for more air. Rumlow pulled back and the Soldier gasped.

“Please sir, I want it.” It lacked any emotion behind the words. But in all fairness, the Soldier wasn't suppose to be showing any emotion normally anyway. That wasn't going to change just because it was about to be used as a glorified blow up doll. That would come later. Rumlow could order it to act like it was alive, but wringing out genuine emotion, breaking through that shell of conditioning… nothing in the world was more satisfying. And he'd been through this rodeo enough to know how to make the Soldier fold like a stack of cards.

“Please what? Use your words.” Rumlow glanced at rest of the Strike team, who were smirking and making quiet noises of approval.

Its voice cracked, sounding exhausted. “I don’t know. Please, sir.”

Rumlow laughed. “You know why you don’t know?”

“I was not made to think, only to follow," it mumbled.

“Damn straight. And what I’m telling you do right now it relax your goddamn ass. How am I suppose to fuck that pretty cunt when you’re clamping down so hard?”

The Soldier actually wasn’t as tight as he could be right now, but as soon as the pain started coming, and it would, it clenched tight enough to break your fucking fingers without even meaning too. But the Soldier didn’t remember that, and Brock really wanted to hear the little fucker beg for his hole to be made open and sloppy.

The Soldier looked _miserable_. “I don’t know sir.”

Rumlow backhanded him. “Guess I’ll have to take time out of my day to make you useful.”

Reeling from the sting of Rumlow’s leather glove, the Soldier couldn’t even look up when he choked out, “Thank you, sir. I will do my best to comply.”

Rollins strode over with what, for any normal sexual activity, should probably have been considered “an embarrassingly large amount of lube”. They probably weren’t going to use it all, but better safe than sorry. It was really only their for their comfort, and to make the more creative choices slide in easier. The Soldier’s super healing kept it safe from all but the absolutely most debilitating of injuries. A ripped up asshole was nothing it couldn’t handle. Not that it wouldn’t still hurt like a bitch. Rollins pressed the tip of the bottle to the hole and just squirt it in. No finesse to it. He poured a little bit extra on the outside of the hole too, because why the hell not, and then smacked the thing until it was bright pink.

The Soldier let out a few grunts, but stayed very purposefully still.

Rollins dropped the bottle off on a table to the side and shouted,“Alright! Who wants to go first?”

Westfield had a particularly nasty look on his face. Must be something good, because he didn’t move. Wanted to save it for later. Instead, Halsey stepped forward with an empty beer bottle.

“Though we could start with a classic.”

It really was like a party. Everyone messing around, light music playing in the background, and the Soldier was their party game. Halsey didn’t even bother with his fingers or anything smaller, just wedged the bottle in, neck first, and started pumping it in and out, lube already leaking out and dripping down the glass.

“Wouldya look at that, he really must be learning. Remember last time, when he shattered it?”

Rumlow and Rollins laughed. Rumlow wasn’t all that into blood play but damn, if the Soldier’s tears and lip biting, trying to hold back from screaming weren’t one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. He was almost sad it didn’t happen again.

Halsey shoved the rest of it in without warning, eliciting a surprised yelp from the Soldier. Its hole fluttered shut, amazingly enough, and the bottom of the bottle disappeared behind the flesh, only to reappear a second later as the body tried to push it out.

“Ah, not yet.”

Rumlow took one finger and shoved the bottle back in so it was completely covered. A whimper this time, barely audible.

Kells, apparently unable to just fucking wait the rest of them, came in out of nowhere and pushed his thumb onto the Soldier's plump lower lip. It bat its long girly lashes at him, like it was being coy or something.

Kells smirked. “Open wide, sweetheart.”

There was a just a flash of something there in its eyes, like it was about to refuse. The Soldier might have been naked as the day it was born, even had the metal arm shut off for good measure, but it could still deal a huge amount of damage from the position. And that was speaking from personal experience.

“Behave, _Soldat._ This is your mission right now. Do not fail us.”

Its eyes glazed over and promptly opened its mouth in a perfect little ‘O’. Kells shoved himself like like a man desperate for water.

“Fuck, I missed this," he said with a sharp thrust.

“You that much of a fag, Kells?”

Kells moaned. “A warm hole is a warm hole, Rumlow. This hole just happens to have a very talented tongue that my bimbo ex-wife could only dream of.”

There was a clatter, and they all turned their heads in time to watch the beer bottle roll across the room. Rumlow got as close to the Soldier’s face as he could without getting an eyeful of Kells’ balls.

“Aw, baby, if you wanted something else up your ass, all you had to do was say so.” Rumlow stood back up and shouted, “Alright, who’s next?”

Welk set his own beer down and pulled out an old phone with a badly cracked screen. “Kept this little puppy all charged up for today.” Welk pushed it, no lube since the Soldier was still oozing with it. A rough edge of the plastic tugged on a sensitive bit of skin and the Soldier shivered. 

The Soldier's muscles clenched and unclenched, trying to keep the phone from falling while not really knowing how to keep it in. It kept the rim stretched open a good couple inches, and Rumlow could see just a peak of its guts.

He whistled. “Not bad.”

Welk gave a nasty grin in return. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Kells slowed his pace down and tried to look over when Welk pulled out his new phone and pressed ‘call’. A second later, the phone was buzzing loud and clear, even over the _Sugar Sugar_ ringtone.

The Soldier jerked forward again, and by the way Kells’ yelped, it must have just barely prevented itself from chomping down on the dick in its mouth. Kells pulled out and grabbed its jaw.

“No teeth,  you dumb bitch. You can take down twenty armed men alone in combat, but you can’t handle a fucking cell phone up your ass?”  

Rumlow was ready to burst out laughing. He stuck a gloved finger in a few inches, probing around for the Soldier's prostate, and knew he'd found it when the Solder's back muscles rippled in a brief shock of pleasure. He readjusted the phone and fit it snug against the tiny bump. The Soldier’s shoulder's sagged, and Rumlow didn't have to see its face to know how miserable and confused it looked at this point. Good. This wasn't a reward for the _Soldier._ The ringing stopped, and Welk just dialed again, setting the Soldier off into another squirming fit. Kells squeezed tighter.

“If I feel so much as a scrape, you’ll eating those teeth, got it?” His grip left red finger marks on the Soldier's pale skin.

“Yes sir. I will comply.”

Welk called the phone again, and it happily buzzed away, though a little more muted. After a few minutes, Rollins looked down at the Soldier’s cock and scoffed.

“Tch, ain’t even hard. What’s the matter, we can’t satisfy you sluttly hole, Soldier?”

“Now now, Jack. You know he needs something bigger than a little phone to feel anything down there these days. Ain’t that right Soldat?”

The Soldier had a panicked look in his eyes. Rumlow pet at his long hair, not being entirely gentle as his fingers worked through the tangles.

“Don’t worry kid, we’ll take care of you.”

\-----

The man, Kells, made a little noise in the back of his throat and suddenly pulled out of his mouth, stepping back a pace The Soldier supposed he was trying to aim for his eyes, and his stomach did a flip of joy when the cum hit his cheek and lips instead. Kells swept some up with his thumb and pushed insistently at the Soldier’s closed lips. Hesitantly, he parted his lips and sucked on the finger, blinking slow and looking up from under his eyelashes at the man’s stupid satisfied smirk. Kells pet his head like a dog, before zipping up his pants and sauntering off and out of the Soldier’s view.

He wanted to sleep. He wanted to be out in the field doing what he was created to do. He wanted to do literally anything but the current mission. He knew every order, no matter how small or unpleasant, was necessary for Hydra’s to succeed. But the Soldier couldn’t for the life of him figure out the purpose of this. Was it punishment? Was it to test his loyalty? He knew better than to question his superiors, but sometime he wished he was allowed to ask, or even say ‘no’. Instead, as he saw Agent Rollins pull out something long and smooth from a grey duffel bag, he closed his eyes and will his body to relax. He is obedient. It’s what had made him valuable above all others.

Rumlow scoffed. “You are not sticking that whole thing in there.”

“Relax. I’m just gonna push it in a few inches. He’s not going to to get splinters up his ass, if that’s what you're worried about,” Rollins reassured, rubbing it between the Soldier’s glutes, slicking it up.

“We’re suppose to be working up to shit like that. I don’t want blood everywhere when you tear a new one.”

“Please, the diameter is the same as Welk’s stupid phone. Plus, this is like, half the size of what Westfield has. I checked.”

“What exactly _is_ this mysterious dick compensation he’s hiding?”

“You don’t like surprises?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

The Soldier was glad no one had his mouth anymore, because he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from clamping down. He could tell, and he hated how he could, that the object in question was a baseball bat. He hoped when he spit out a mouth full of blood that it wouldn’t be taken as a sign of disrespect to what the agents were doing. Even if he half meant that way. Mercifully, he felt more lube being poured, however little it helped. It felt so much bigger than the phone, and Rollins kept pushing it in for what felt like an eternity. There was just no give whatsoever, and the Soldier could swear he was being split in half. Tears spilled down his cheeks and dripped down his chin and finally, _finally_ it stopped moving. His hole twitched and spasmed around the bat, desperately trying to both push it out while also making room for it. There was pressure on everything, and the Soldier felt like he needed to cum and piss and pass out all at once.

The Soldier couldn’t actually look to see, but he was hard. He was hard and God, he really hoped he wouldn’t be reprimanded for that. Nobody said either way if he’d be allowed some release, but the rule of thumb was if he wasn’t told that he could, and he wasn’t out in the field, then it was best to not do it. Sure they joked about being dissapointed that he  _wasn't_ hard earlier, but it might have been a trick.

He tried to will it to go down. It didn’t even feel good. Suddenly, the girth was being pulled back and he nearly cried in relief.

“Oh good, someone’s finally gettin’ in on the fun.”

It was a new voice, one the Soldier couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t unusual; he rarely retained memories of his superiors. He usually went out on missions alone, and even when he had the STRIKE team as backup, names didn’t matter. He simply held out his hands, and weapons were placed in them.

A slick, loose grip started off with a few tugs, slightly, slowly dulling the ache in his hole.

“Always such a slut for it, god _damn_. Man, just wait ‘til you guys see what I brought. Guarantee it blows everyone else’s outta the water.”

“Calm down, Harrison.”

Harrison scoffed, gripping the Soldier’s cock a little tighter. "That feel good, babe?"

"Yes," the Soldier panted, "it does sir. Thank you."

"Come on, you can do better than that."

"I love, sir," he moaned. "Please don't stop."

The Soldier gasped, twitching his hips up a little. The movements sped up ever so slightly, sometimes stopping for a moment to tease the tip with light strokes, smearing around little droplets of precum. He couldn’t exactly participate, so instead the Soldier closed his eyes and imagined himself someplace else, with someone he actually desired pleasuring him. His mind drifted, conjuring up some meaningless backdrop. It didn’t matter. But there was a bed, and it was almost uncomfortably soft. On it was a slender, shapely body, smooth pink lips, blond hair that shimmered in the streaks of light escaping through the old, dusty muslin curtains. Broad fingers and calloused palms that touched him in all the ways he wanted, bringing him just to the point of-

Harrison withdrew, slapping the Soldier’s ass on the way. The Soldier grunted in frustration, and couldn’t help when he jolted against the metal clamping him down. Another slap, not as playful as the last. It stung, and he could feel a bruise forming just under the skin.

Rollins shoved the bat back in, further than originally and began to work it in and out, getting rougher with each thrust.

Rumlow stepped around the platform and bent over so that he nearly touched noses with the Soldier.

“Remember. Your. Place. You take what we give you, and thank us for all of it. Is that clear?”

 _No no no no._ “Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

“We don’t owe you anything. So if you want to cum, you’d better fucking earn it.”

\-----

Rumlow stood back up and looked back down on his masterpiece. The Soldier’s cock was flushed a pretty shade of crimson, pointing straight as an arrow towards the ground. He really wished he had some ribbon, or hell a cock cage. Something to cinch around that monster prick the Soldier was swinging around. Though really, letting it cum would help it loosen its hole faster, so it was probably for the best. The only thing more beautiful than watching not-quite-Bucky-Barnes-anymore slaughter targets with machine precision was watching all that programing breakdown as they stretched its asshole beyond recognition. Already the rim was turning light shade of purple, all wet and nasty and wrinkled like a real pussy. And at the end of the day, when they threw the Soldier’s brain back in the blender, all that pain and animalistic desperation would stick. Not the intimate details, of course. Just the feelings. The sense of place and purpose.

“There, he ought to be ready for something bigger now.” Rollins said it very matter o'fact-ly, but with a sly grin he couldn’t quite hide. He ground the tip down one last time and pulled the bat out in one swift motion, leaving the Soldier gasping and clenching his fists. He held it in one hand, swinging a little side to side like he was ready to step up to plate. He stopped only long enough to smear some of the unspeakable gunk off on the Soldier’s face. The Soldier winced, setting off a round of laughter from those who’d been paying attention.

Harrison didn’t even bother to wait for Rumlow to ask. He just stepped up, and from his pocket pulled a maybe half a foot tall Captain America action figure. Rumlow barked out a laugh.

“Okay that is pretty good. Wait, let me see it it real quick.”

Rumlow dangled the toy by on of its posable little arms and dangled it in front of the Soldier’s face.  If it knocked anything loose, it didn’t show. The Soldier just looked blankly ahead, not a thought in that cobweb filled head.

“Whaddya think, Soldat? A lot of history nerds thought the two of you might’ve been fucking. Time for a reunion, eh?”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

"Show me."

Rumlow held the toy up to the Soldier's mouth in one hand and used the other to gently push the Soldier's head down. It got the idea quick enough, and poked his tongue out and swiped the tiny Cap helmet, leaving it shiny and wet. Slowly, the Soldier took more of it, up to about little Captain's crotch and sucked. He worked at it lovingly, occasionally making eye contact with Rumlow for signs of approval. It took all his self restraint to not laugh. Son of bitch really liked to use its mouth, and Rumlow wondered if it was out of habit or just as a way to try and distract them from its asshole. He fucked it in and out of the Soldier's mouth, who moaned and closed its eyes. 

"Okay, that's enough." The Soldier whined and gave Rumlow bedroom eyes. Okay, definitely distraction. The little shit. "Why don't you show us how much you loved super soldier dick? Tell me how much you want Harrison to fuck you with this."

"Please sir. Please fuck me with it," it said, back in monotone.

“Well, since you asked so nice.”

Rumlow tossed it back to Harrison, who just coated the whole thing before easing it in, as though that would make up for the awkward shape catching on all the raw, sensitive skin. He’d posed it with one tiny fist straight up, and the other tucked against Cap’s little star spangled torso.

The whole thing was soon buried in the Soldier’s ass with a squelch. It must have pinched something with the joints too, because the Soldier’s whole body lurched forward, eyes bulging, nose flaring in sad attempt to remain composed.

“Aw, it’s too small for him! Anyone else got something we could add?” Harrison shouted.

Jenkins, who’d been skulking off to the side and palming himself through his pants, took a quick look around before snatching a door-stopper laying a few feet away. “This should do the trick.”

The Soldier’s eyes fluttered shut with a whimper, bracing himself. It wasn’t like the door-stopper was all that big, not compared to the bat, but it was covered in grime from the floor and just as long as the action figure. Last time around, everyone had made a game of how many pens they could stuff inside the Soldier’s ass (to which the answer was fifteen, before they all were shot out an nobody felt like picking them up to try again), and Rumlow wondered if that hadn't been too easy. ‘Cause for all that moaning and groaning, the Soldier was still taking both things like champ as the rubber wedge slipped in without a trace.

Jenkins cursed, smiling like a madman, and unzipped himself. People were lining up to see how much more they could fit it, and Jenkins took advantage of the Soldier's distraction wrench its mouth open and bury himself to the hilt in one smooth movement.

The Soldier’s fingers curled up and digging into the palms of its hands, trying to flinch his head back to breathe. Harrison just gripped its hair and pulled until the Soldier’s nose was mashed up against Jenkins' briefs.

Smith was in the process of trying to jam a pocket-sized stapler in next to Webb’s empty Tic Tac box while Anderson stood by, impatiently tapping his foot with a hole puncher and a sharpie. If Rumlow weren’t saving himself to the Soldier’s ass later, he might’ve creamed his pants at the sight of it.

\-----

The Soldier must have passed out, because the next thing he knew a bucket of freezing, dirty grey ice water was dumped on his head. His chest heaved as he tried to gulp down more air. Half a dozen men surrounded the Soldier, their faces ranging from unconcerned to mild annoyance.

“Sheesh. You’d think after sixty some years, ice wouldn't bother a guy anymore.”

“The thing’s fine, just being a baby. Hey!”

Some fingers snapped in his face. The Soldier was torn between wanting to bit those fingers off and just falling back under.

“You with us?”

He nodded. “Yes sir.”

“See Jenkins? I told you he couldn’t hold his breath that long. Gotta let ‘im breathe. Sorry your precious ding dong might get cold.”

“Whatever. I finished anyway.”

The Soldier wanted to throw up. All he could taste was nasty, bitter spunk. If he’d been conscious, he could’ve at least tried to swallow right away, keeping it off his tongue. Under ideal conditions, he could hold his breath for six minutes or so. The fact that he passed out so quickly meant something was severely compromised, and he was vulnerable. Useless. Maybe he’d been damaged before the session even began. Maybe that was the true purpose of his current treatment. His masters had no other use for him.

The Soldier’s breath hitched, and he broke out into a fresh bout of tears. He glanced up and this time they all looked either genuinely surprise or exasperated. But all the movement behind him paused, and Rumlow dropped down to be level with the Soldier again.

“Aw, what’s the matter baby? Do you hurt?”

The Soldier hiccuped. “I’m just… I’m just not sure what the point of this exercise is, sir.”

Rumlow looked up and of them simply shrugged their shoulders. He turned back to the Soldier, and wrapped a leather clad hand around the Soldier’s neck, squeezing just hard enough to feel it but not cut off air.

“What is your position here in Hydra, Soldier.”

The Soldier felt dizzy. Someone already resumed fucking him with the children’s toy, pushing everything else stuffed inside him further inwards and pinching in places he didn't even know he could feel pain.

“I am the fist of Hydra. My compliance will help bring order to the world,” he droned, parroting the words of some long forgotten propaganda film.

“That’s right,” Rumlow said, barely holding back from sneering. “And ‘compliance’ means shutting the hell up and not questioning orders. You don’t even know your own goddamn name, but you want to know ‘the point’. Christ almighty, the mouth on you.”

He yanked his hand away and stood up with a look of disgust. On the upside, the Soldier could feel his erection wilting, a small but welcome relief. Even if it also left an aftertaste of frustration.

“Get that shit outta his ass. Westfield, get over here and finish it so we can ream this ungrateful prick.”

The Soldier felt hot with shame. He wanted to bury his head in the crook of his arm. He settled for shifting his hair so that it fell in front of his eyes. The toy, the doorstopper, it was all taken out and thrown off to the side. The man the Soldier guessed must be Westfield was soon looming over him.

The guy had an awful grin on his face, and the Soldier looked up just enough to see what he was carrying; a bowling pin, huge and heavy in his hands. The Soldier didn’t even mean to, since it was more out of reflex than anything, but he yanked against the restraints. He could, with enough time and effort, break them. But it was a fight he’d lose, even if he could stomach such disobedience from himself. He still couldn’t seem to stop panicking, though, and he felt his wrists and forearms starting to bruise and bleed.

“Oh, that is _nasty,_ Westfield.”

He felt light headed, probably from hyperventilation. Maybe, if he could break his thumb, he could at least get enough of his arm free in time to snatch the pin and smash it.

Rumlow grabbed a fist full of the Soldier’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Soldat,” he hissed, “be _have_.”

He shuttered and lost some of the tension, but kept his teeth clenched hard.

Westfield made a show of grabbing the lube, dragging it past the Soldier’s field of vision. The Soldier could feel it all over the his backside, being worked into his ass in messy globs. His hole was absolutely drooling, and he supposed he should at least be thankful this all wasn’t being done dry. But a small piece of him, way down inside, protested the whole ordeal. Why was this even _happening?_ How in God’s name did his life become this? A figure feared by many, while simultaneously thrown to these wolves for amusement. That part of him said he wasn’t meant to be here. No one in the world should have to go through this. That this was wrong. The Soldier nearly bit off his tongue as the pin breached him.

It stretched and it stretched and it fucking  _hurt_. Not bullet wounds to the kidney or lungs pierced by hundred mile an hour shrapnel could possibly touch it. The physical pain topped with the unshakable sense of injustice at it all was more than he could bare and he collapsed, as much as he could in the restraints, and sobbed openly.

There was a flurry of movement in his periphery, and a moment later all he could feel was the sting of leather on his left cheek and a little trickle of blood from his nose. The crying turned into desperate gasps for air.

“Shut up. We’re not even halfway done.”

The squelch of lube and solid thirty seconds of silent screaming later, it was completely inside him. A whole five inch diameter of polished wood stuffed in the Soldier’s backside. Welk worked it in and out, plowing the Soldier’s insides with each thrust. He found himself moving his hips in motion with the pin, slightly easing the pressure. They couldn’t avoid his prostate even if they wanted to, and soon his cock was perking back up.

“Jeez, for all that bitching he’s still enjoying it plenty. Aren’t you, Soldier? What do you say?”

“Th-thank… thank you, sir,” he gasped.

Someone started jerking him off again. He wanted to scream. He needed to scream. it was too much, too much and he couldn't take it but there wasn't anywhere to  _go._ His back arched. He was aching for a million different forms of release, and he wasn’t sure which he needed the most. His eyes rolled back, and he thought for a moment he was about to pass out again. He rolled his hips back on the thing, trying to grind down on just the right spot, ignoring the feeling like his skin was going to tear any moment and…

It was gone. He was wide, gaping open and could feel it. Could feel his hole weakly trying to spasm shut, all the while oozing lube that fell to the floor with a splat. His cock shot out a pathetic stream of cum, barely leaving a dent in his general sense of desperation and discomfort. It almost felt worse.

“Looks like we don’t have to use the fleshlight this time.”

Someone else whistled. “Look at that sloppy cunt.”

“What do the kids call it? A rosebud or something?”

“Hey Soldier, your guts are hanging out. Want us to push them back in for you?”

“Look at him, he’s fucking the air!”

The Soldier caught himself still swaying forward and back, open mouthed and panting hard. With one last thrust of his hips into nothing, he hung is head low and just gave up. He was almost grateful for the frame and cuffs because it was also the only thing left holding him up. He barely even heard the bowling pin being dropped to the ground.

\-----

Rumlow shot Rollins a look, and soon everyone broke out in a stupid grin.

The Soldier was already drifting off as Rumlow prepared to ruin his nice leather gloves once and for all. Totally worth it. He’d buy new ones.

He didn’t even bother tucking his thumb, just made a fist and popped it right in and out a few times without resistance. The Soldier grunted weakly, but didn’t move.

“Yep, all ready. Form an orderly line, boys, and watch how to fuck a cunt properly.”

Rumlow grabbed a handful of ass on each side and dove in. Hot and wet and loose and absolutely fucking perfect He wished he could tease the Soldier about how loose and sloppy it was, but then it might try to tighten up, and they did not just spend the last hour working on this just to ruin it for a little dirty talk. The Soldier could and would crush their dicks like a fucking boa constrictor if given the chance, so the trick at this point was to keep something in its ass until they were totally done. Like a steady stream of cocks.

“You like this? Moan for it, bitch. Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” the Soldier slurred.

"You love it."

"I love it."

"I bet that orgasm of yours didn't even take the edge off. Gee, if only there were someone around to help you properly..." Rumlow pulled out and circled its puffy rim with the tip of his cock.

"Please please  _please._ Please, I need your cock so bad. Please, God please, I don't know what else to say just  _please-"_

“Hmm. I don't believe you. Come on, fuck yourself on me.”

The Soldier thrust back pathetically, barely mustering up the energy moan at an audible frequency.It was sloppy and frantic and it couldn't even line its hole up with his dick. It was entertaining enough, but Rumlow wasn't made of infinite patience. He grabbed the Soldier's sides again shoved back in. A cut off cry, and the Soldier's sobbing had it shaking too violently to move. He sighed, and rolled his hips back down like it was a chore or something.

“I dunno Rumlow, maybe you’re not enough for the slut,” Rollins said after a few thrusts. "Soldat just doesn't seem too into it."

He was about to shoot back with something snappy when he saw what Rollins was holding. In one hand a roll of Scotch tape and the other, a slimy Captain America doll. Rumlow craned his neck and watched Rollins messily curl the tiny little arms and legs around the Soldier’s dick and taping it into place.

“There. Reunited at last.”

Rumlow grasped at the Soldier’s yanked on the Soldier's hair, leaving filthy, slick smears. “Aren’t you going to thank Rollins?”

“Yes sir," it gasped. "Thank you, sir.”

 

God, this was going to be a good party.

**Author's Note:**

> this has got to be in at least the top 5 filthiest things I've ever written omg. It's so bad I couldn't even use my main account. I'm not even going to pretend like I could explain this fic to people I know irl. You'll never catch me, fuckers
> 
> pleeeease please comment. Especially if you have any tips or suggestions that could help me improve my smut. Or just write me words of encouragement I aint to proud to beg *thumbs up emoji*


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